A Town like Alice

better now, Joe. It was the reaction, I suppose-getting it finished and open. I went to bed just after leaving you and slept right through. Twelve solid hours. I'm feeling fine."
    "Take things very easy today," he said.
    She stroked his hair. "Dear Joe. It's going to be much easier from now on."
    "This bloody weather'll break soon," he said. "We'll get rain starting within the week, and after that it'll begin to get cool."
    They drove on presently. "Joe," she said, "I had an awful row this week with the bank manager-Mr Watkins. Did you hear about it?"
    He grinned. "I did hear something," he admitted. "What really happened?"
    "It was the flies," she said. "It was so hot on Friday, and I was so tired. I went into that miserable little bank to cash the wages cheque and you know how full of flies it always is. I had to wait a few minutes and the flies started crawling all over me, in my hair and in my mouth and in my eyes. I was sweating, I suppose. I lost my temper, Joe. I oughtn't to have done that."
    "It's a crook place, that bank is," he observed. "There's no reason why it should have all those flies. What did you say?"
    "Everything," she said simply. "I told him I was closing my account because I couldn't stand his bloody flies. I said I was going to bank in Cairns and get the cash in by Dakota every week. I said I was going to write to his head office in Sydney and tell them why I'd done it, and I said I was going to write to the Bank of New South Wales and offer my account to them if they'd start up a branch here with no flies. I said I used a DDT spray and I didn't get flies in my workshop and I wasn't going to have them in my bank. I said he ought to be setting an example to Willstown instead of…" She stopped.
    "Instead of what?" he asked.
    She said weakly, "I forgot what I did say."
    He stared straight ahead at the track. "I did hear in the bar you told him he ought to set an example instead of sitting on his arse and scratching."
    "Oh, Joe, I couldn't have said that!"
    He grinned. "That's what they're saying that you told him, in Willstown."
    "Oh…" They drove on in silence for a time. "I'll go in on Friday and apologize," she said. "It's no good making quarrels in a place like this."
    "I don't see why you should apologize," he objected. "It's up to him to apologize to you. After all, you're the customer." He paused. "I'd go in there on Friday and see how he's getting on," he advised. "I know he got ten gallons of DDT spray on Saturday, because Al Burns told me."
    When they got to Midhurst he made her go at once and sit in a long chair at the corner of the veranda with a glass of lemon squash made with cold water from the refrigerator. He would not let her move for breakfast, but brought her a cup of tea and a boiled egg and some bread and butter on a tray. She sat there, relaxed, with the fatigue soaking out of her, content to have him gently fussing over her. When the day grew hot he suggested that she took the spare bedroom and lay down upon the bed leaving the double doors open at each end of the room to get the draught through; he promised, grinning, not to look if he passed along the veranda. She took him at his word and took off most of her clothes in the spare room and lay down on the bed and slept through the midday heat.
    When she woke up it was nearly four o'clock and she was cool and rested and at ease. She lay for a while wondering if he had looked; then she got up and slipped her frock on and went to the shower, and stood for a long time under the warm stream of water. She came to him presently on the veranda, fresh and rested and full of fondness for him in his generosity, and found him squatting on the floor mending a bridle with palm, needle, and waxed thread. She stooped and kissed him, and said, "Thanks for everything, Joe. I had a lovely sleep." And then she said, "Can we go riding after tea?"
    "Still a bit hot," he said. "Think that's a good thing?"
    "I'd like to," she said. "I want to be able to sit on a horse properly."
    He said, "You did all right last time." She had been promoted from the fourteen-year-old Auntie to the more energetic Sally and she was gradually learning how to trot. She found that trotting in that climate made her sweat more than the horse and made it difficult for her to sit down next day, but the exercise, she knew, was good for her. Starting at her age, she would never be a very good rider, but she was determined to achieve the ability to do it as a means of